Pure Harmony, OneShot Edition
by Rihaan
Summary: Nothing but the sweet, humourous, AU romances of Harry and Hermione. Anything from K to M rating. First chapter is M; everything after is pretty tame. Please enjoy and review.
1. Never Leave

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, I do not own the books, nor the merchandise, or even the Puppets for that matter. I do not own a secret underground harem, either. On a _completely_ separate note, a shout out to Staci, Naomi, Shakira, Saunabria, and Camilla.

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><p>"Hermione?"<p>

Sniffling.

"Hermione."

More sniffling.

"I'm smelling your underwear right now."

A weak sob and more sniffling.

"Now I think I'm going to wear it and go outside for a bit of a stroll. Nice and brisk outside, don't you think?"

A small cry and more sniffling.

"I suppose you might want to burn these panties afterwards, though. Just knowing that your lady parts rub against these on a basis does things to me that I'm not very proud of."

More. Goddamned. Sniffling.

Harry sighed. Well, he tried. He approached the bed and ripped the covers back. Hermione was knocked out of her daze as Harry picked her up and hefted her over his shoulder with ease.

"Harry?" She sniffed. Again.

"What?" He sounded more than a bit agitated.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm kicking you out."

"W-what?"

"If I have to repeat myself I will _literally_ _kick_ you out," He growled.

"W-why are you kicking me out?" She asked, more confused than anything.

"You're useless, that's why."

"What are you t-talking about?"

"Since Ron left, you've been doing nothing but cry. How exactly does that help me find a way to get rid of Horcruxes? How does that help me find them? How does that help me in any way whatsoever, Hermione? Not one bloody bit. So you're out."

"But Harry…you need me – "

"No, I need Hermione. Not this crying, useless, dependent, little girl. This is Ron's Hermione. The Hermione Ron made you become. I want _my_ Hermione."

By then, Harry had put her back to her feet outside the tent, where she promptly fell over. "What do you mean?"

"My Hermione would have figured it out by now."

"Just give me a bit more time – "

"I gave you enough. Now leave. Go join your boyfriend while I do what I've been trying to do this whole time; leave without you two."

"I'm not letting you go on your own!" She yelled, and almost as an afterthought, she added, "and he's not my boyfriend."

Harry gave an unconcerned shrug. "Should be. You two are just like each other. Bloody useless when I need you the most. Ready to disappear out at the drop of a hat."

"Harry! You know that's not true! I've _always_ stood by you!"

"_My_ Hermione stood by me," he corrected. "_My_ Hermione was my best friend. I don't know what happened to her. I don't know who _you_ are. Until _My_ Hermione decides to come back, _This_ Hermione needs to go. So get out."

"But Harry – "

"Get. Out."

He turned around and walked away. Hermione struggled to her feet, straining from misuse. "Harry, please… you can't do this alone."

"Maybe not. But I can't do this with you, either."

"Please, Harry. Give me another chance – "

"You told Ron you chose me over him. You obviously made a mistake. Now go tell him that. Maybe when you two are back at Hogwarts, and you're doing all his homework, you'll stop crying."

He stopped walking and half-turned towards her. "My Hermione died somewhere between the Hall of Mysteries and me telling her the Prophecy. I'd understand why she'd be gone forever. She was my best friend. I loved my Hermione more than you could ever know!" For the first time, he was actually yelling. "She helped me, she cared about me, she was the only thing that kept my life from being a living hell!" He watched as Hermione was almost to her feet. Oh, how much she had changed from before. "I'm never getting her back. I know that now. I'm not gonna try any more. And I don't need whatever you've become to remind me."

Hermione limped towards the fast-retreating figure, before he disappeared into the wards of the tent. Wards that she herself had set up. Still, she trudged towards him, reaching to where he had last been seen…only to see nothing.

She walked a bit further. The tent was still disillusioned to her completely.

She pulled out her wand and quickly disabled the wards. Nothing.

Harry Potter was gone.

Then, Hermione started crying, again, but for a completely different reason.

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><p>Harry walked into the protections of the wards and quickly performed a notice-me-not charm. He walked into the tent and didn't turn back. He took the locket off of his neck and fell into the bed.<p>

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><p>He woke up the next morning to the sound of silence. He liked that sound. It was very pleasing to his ears.<p>

Harry didn't know how to feel about what he did last night. It was probably for the best, kicking her out. She obviously missed the traitor, but she was afraid of becoming one herself. He simply fixed that problem for her.

Yes, he had made the right choice.

He slowly sat up in his bed, only to look in the eyes of Hermione Granger.

"Good morning." Her voice was neither angry nor bitter, and he took it as a somewhat good sign.

"Morning." He turned away briefly to yawn in his hand and turned back to her, unconcerned. "Any reason you're sitting on my bed?"

Hermione didn't pause. "Yes."

Harry was silent a few moments. Hermione sat as still as a stone. Harry went to roll out of bed, until he realized that Hermione was sitting between his legs. He set to maneuver them around her, until she stretched out her own and locked her legs over his. "What?"

"We have to talk."

"No, we don't. Either you're leaving this tent, or I am."

"Why are you like this, Harry?" Her calm façade cracked, she was clearly distressed.

"Why are _you_ like this, Hermione?" He retorted. "I just want you to get out of here so you can go to Ron. The only reason I kept you here this long is because I thought that I actually needed you."

"But you _do_ need me –"

"Not this Hermione," He said firmly. "This Hermione can't help me."

"I _can_ help you, Harry," She stressed, just as firm. "And I'm not _asking_ you to let me stay. You need me, whether you want to admit it or not."

He was quiet. "That's the Hermione I remember," He said softly.

"Not exactly." Before Harry could ask for a deeper meaning, Hermione took the chance to give their entire relationship one. She quickly grabbed his shoulders and pressed her lips to his, showing just exactly what had changed and what she wanted to change.

Harry's eyes almost popped out of his head as his mind tried to process that he was being kissed by what was once his best friend. After ten seconds of the kiss, he slowly closed his eyes, not caring about anything else.

Hermione felt herself shudder into the kiss, releasing her nerves as she steeled herself to make the move. The move had been made, and she was enjoying every tiny second of it. She was going to enjoy it until he broke it, started sputtering, make some kind of speech about brother and sister, and him and Ginny and her and Ron, and proceed to kick her out again. She just wanted this moment right now, damn everything else.

Harry gave her their moment. He didn't want to stop kissing her. It felt more felt more wild than any dragon in his chest, more _right_ than anything he had ever felt. As he kissed Hermione, his mind went into overdrive, wondering what spurred this on. He didn't know where his thoughts began or ended, or where they were supposed to go, but he knew the ending thought as his mouth parted with hers: If she wanted to be with Ron right now, she would be there. He had pretty much thrown her to Ron. She actually had the fair chance to choose. And _she chose him_. And the moment he had broken up with Ginny, and absolutely _needed_ Hermione to come with him on this search, not for what she could do for him, but because of her mere _presence_, _he chose her_.

Hermione had lost almost all conscious thought as she felt Harry's mouth open and his tongue seek permission into hers. She numbly allowed it. She did not think that this would happen. She had imagined a lot of scenarios, but she _never_ expected that even one of them would be that he would kiss her _back_. Her mind had basically shut off every function as it focused on the only one that mattered. 'Kiss him back.'

A bit over ten minutes later, they parted. They didn't remember when they fell back onto the bed. In fact, it took them a few moments for them to remember anything before their kiss.

They stared at each other, each trying to see what the other was thinking. Fortunately, they could read each other like a book.

Hermione didn't have to read if Harry was happy. He had a dazed and somewhat aloof grin on his face and a sparkle of joy in his eye.

Also, something was pressed against her thigh. She was shocked, but not as embarrassed as she thought she would have been. Harry seemed to not have noticed yet, and she wasn't going to complain.

Their faces were inches apart, and while they had long ago read the other's emotions, now they were reading their own.

"Old Hermione…" She started, "always wanted to do that."

Harry gave a slightly bigger grin. "Old Harry's been thinking about it every now and then."

"Old Harry?"

"The Harry that gave a damn what other people think, and thought about a future traitor's feelings before himself."

"I don't like that Harry much. But then, that was the Harry I..." She stared into his eyes, and drew courage from them. She had already kissed him, she might as well go all in. "That was the Harry I fell in love with."

Harry saw the uncertainty in her eyes, but there was no way he could mistake it for something else when he saw her eyes shine with what could only be joy. Joy that she had finally said it to him. "I can't change back," He admitted. "This feels too right."

"We'll make it work." She gave a weak grin. "I'm really starting to like this Harry."

He could only smile back.

She felt his hands on her waist gently nudge her over, so she rolled with him so they lay together on the bed. He didn't let go of her waist, and she didn't let go of his sides.

She felt that she needed to explain something to him. She should explain what came around for her to realize the past two years of her life was a mistake. She should explain why she didn't leave, why no one outside of the tent mattered to her, or how she even saw through the charm. But the only thought that really came up at the time was "My underwear does things to you that you're not proud of?"

Harry gave an embarrassed grin. Just like old times, when they shamelessly joked with each other. "Don't blame me. They're _your_ underwear!"

"They're borderline granny-panties, Harry!"

"Are you subtly suggesting that I buy you something more appealing?"

Hermione blushed crimson. "N-no! I didn't say that!"

"Well, if anything is happening between us, I don't want to keep the thought of you wearing elderly clothing."

She gave a long-suffering sigh that was ruined by her smile. "Okay, okay. But no thongs."

"What are thongs?" He asked, genuinely curious.

Hermione had to smile even brighter; she wasn't going to miss this chance. "I'll show you later. I might even try some on for you."

Harry knew this was something he really wanted to see. "Can you transfigure them?"

With practiced ease, she pulled her wand out of her pocket and conjured a green, lacy thong above them, falling onto Harry's face. Harry took his free hand from Hermione's waist and lifted the lacy garment and stretched them out. It took a few seconds for him to realize that girls actually considered this as underwear. It took a few more seconds for him to realize that Hermione actually considered this as underwear.

Hermione felt his approval poking her thigh and couldn't help but shudder. She was going to wear them quite soon.

"You know, Harry, conjurations don't last," she muttered, smiling when Harry shifted his attention away from what must have been God's second greatest creation. "They disappear in a few hours."

If anything, the poking in her thigh was getting close to uncomfortable. She had assumed that Harry reached the same conclusion she had. To better accommodate her and Harry (After all, she was fairly sure that he was hurting, it shouldn't be bending like that) she did the only thing she could think of; she lifted her leg slightly, allowing it to poke between her thighs, and closed around it, trapping him.

They both shuddered at the touch. Hermione didn't account for the fact that harry slept in his boxers, and he had long ago poked through the front flap. Therefore, when she felt him at full mass with her thighs she tried to restrain herself from unconsciously rubbing them together from arousal.

She failed, and they shuddered again.

"H-Her…mione…" he ground out, "s-stop it, you're going to make me do something else I won't be proud of."

Hermione kept blushing. She didn't know why she was doing all of this, but she couldn't help but notice how good this felt. "I'd be quite proud. And flattered."

"Hermione…" he grumbled, "unless you want your jeans to get messy, get off."

"Harry…" she panted, "unless you have a good excuse, _get off_."

He groaned out his frustration, but held out. Hermione noticed this, and clenched her thighs together. She decided to share a secret with him. "When I said I loved you," she murmured, "I meant it. I always did. I never pictured doing this with anyone but _you_. I'm going to make the most of it. '_Evanesco_!'"

Harry shuddered and shook as he felt himself between Hermione's bare legs. Hermione felt the two different sources of heat between her legs and felt herself lower onto him. She felt a shock as her center was touching him, only separated by her panties. Not for long; she had gone too far now. "_Evanesco_!" she whimpered, and felt another shock.

Harry was firmly nestled between her legs, and there was nothing he could do but move back and forth and a controlled pace, trying to stop completely, but his body wouldn't allow it.

When Hermione reached down and tickled the only visible part of his shaft, as she was trying to get to her clit, he almost lost control.

However, when she started grinding even deeper on him, moaning his name in his ear, he was slicked with her juices, he almost felt a heart attack coming on. This was all so unfamiliar to him, so _real_, so _strange_, _so right_. But he still refused to let himself go.

Until he heard the cutest little whimper Hermione had ever given in her life, a small whine, and he felt her shudder, clinging onto him for dear life, that he fully realized how unbelievably right this felt, and he let go. He gave a rugged sigh as he released.

Hermione was slightly disappointed. She couldn't feel it on her, because it extended past her thighs. That stray thought quickly made her disappointment disappear.

They were both breathing heavily, their sweaty bodies mingling together even more, and Hermione decided to go for broke once more. With one more flick of their wand, all of their clothes were missing.

Harry didn't react to the sudden disappearance of his boxers and shirt, he was too busy feeling Hermione's breasts against his abdomen. He gently scooted Hermione up to his face to kiss her gently.

"Thank you, Hermione."

She smiled weakly. "For what, Harry? This was what I needed too."

"You gave me exactly what I needed. My best friend back. Someone that loves me, and someone that I love too much to ever let go again. A beautiful and brilliant girl who I would love to spend the rest of my life with. My Hermione."

She had tears in her eyes as she kissed him for all she was worth.

She rested her forehead against his and closed her eyes, completely knackered. "My Harry," she whispered.

Harry nudged closer to her, until he felt the lacy garment at his stomach. He lazily picked it up and gently pried Hermione's wand out of her hand. He vanished the underwear, before putting the wand beside the bed. He relaxed into her embrace as sleep took him once again.

Half-an-hour earlier, he wondered if he made the right choice. He didn't. But he wouldn't change a thing.

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><p>Oi, I don't know where this story went, or where it was going, but I fairly enjoyed writing this. Spent about a day on it, I plan on catching up with my writing before College claims my soul once more.<p>

I have somewhat of an epilogue in mind, but that's for another day. And no, no more random sex scenes. I honestly don't know how that got there. In my defense, I am a male teen, a lethal combination. I want to get better at writing smut - I have way too many inappropriate thoughts, magical innuendos, and an AdultFanFiction dot net account to _not_ express myself. Just ask the girls I shouted out to.

Please take the time to review.


	2. The Direct Approach

_**The Direct Approach**_

Hermione subtly looked up at her friends playing chess from across the room inquisitively, her book completely forgotten. She had been asking herself a certain question since her mother gave her 'the talk' a bit more than a month ago. She had turned fourteen about a week ago, and she had long ago felt... something for one of her best friends. She didn't know, however, if either one of them had a stronger than friendly feeling for her, if they had any feelings for her at all. She glanced at the black-haired boy for a moment, then the redhead, before she made her decision. As unorthodox as she was for even _thinking_ of doing this, she wasn't going to waste a minute of what could've been.

Heart over mind, for the first time in her life, she stood up from her usual chair and walked toward them. As Harry saw her approach (Hermione noticed that Harry seemed to be always on edge lately, most likely because of Sirius Black having escaped Azkaban), he waved her over to take his place, likely because he was being slaughtered, as Ron's bishop attacked his rook.

"No thanks, Harry," Hermione nervously smiled in appreciation at him, then sat down near their table. She then breathed deeply.

"Something wrong, Hermione?" Harry asked her, concerned. "You can tell us anything, you know."

"He's right, Herms," Ron said, not looking up from the chess board. He was waiting for Harry to move his queen...

Hermione gave a distinct growl at the nickname, which Ron did not hear, or completely ignored. It was best not to start an argument now, she silently told herself. She mustered up all her courage as she took one more deep breath, and blurted, "Do either of you have any feelings for me?"

Harry's eyes widened the precise moment the queen was slashed down by the bishop. Ron's head almost dropped forward onto one of his pawn's swords before he caught himself. They both turned as one to Hermione.

"Could you repeat that?" Ron asked louder than she wanted.

"I asked you," she said in a soft tone, "if either of you have a more than friendly interest in me. I just want to know."

Harry just looked at her confused. "When I said you can tell us anything... I wasn't expecting... "

"I know," Hermione said with a sigh, "and I wasn't expecting myself to come over here and actually ask that question." She straightened up and gave them an intimidating look. "I'm just asking for an answer. I'm not expecting anything from either of you, I just want to know."

Both boys didn't seem to know what to say. Ron seemed as if he wanted to shrink away, while Harry just looked uncomfortable.

"What about you?" Harry asked her after a pause.

"What about me?" Hermione asked quickly, wanting to get to an answer.

"You asked if either of us liked you. That means you either like one or the both of us. Do you? You can't just be asking this randomly."

It was Hermione's turn to be uncomfortable. "I... " She started, "I like one of you, I think. I'm not sure if it's a brotherly affection or something... more. That's why I want to talk to you both, to see if I should... feel this way. If you don't feel the same, then why should I keep wondering? You two are my best friends. You are the only boys I talk to. Eventually, I figured something was going to happen between me and one of you. I just wanted to know if I should _keep_ thinking along those lines."

Ron finally decided to speak. "I really don't understand girls," he started, "and I probably never will, but I think... you're more like a sister to me. You annoy me as much as my brothers and Ginny, but you help me when I really need it, which is about once a day. I don't really see me having a crush on you, because I don't want a girlfriend to boss me around to do my homework."

"Someone has to, or you wouldn't be a third-year," Hermione countered, hurt.

"Of course they do," Ron said defensively. "And I thank you for doing that for me. I'd just rather let that person stay my friend."

Hermione slowly nodded in understanding. "I guess I can see your point. So, you are saying that you would want to stay completely platonic."

Ron nodded, but stopped. "That means that we stay friends, right?"

"Yes, Ron," she said, rolling her eyes with a smile. "I'm buying you a dictionary this Christmas."

"Oh no... " Ron muttered, before he caught himself and smiled. "No thanks Hermione, I was just pullin' your leg. I know what paltonics mean. Listen, I gotta go... study... in the library. I'll go read a dictionary right now." Hermione heavily doubted this.

"Okay, Ron." She waited until he was halfway out of the portrait hole before she said, "I'll quiz you on A through D later... Ron, language!"

She turned back to Harry, who was deep in thought. It actually reminded her of herself... "Well, Harry?"

Harry looked up at her. "You don't seem disappointed."

Hermione tilted her head sideways. "Why would I be disappointed? I still have halfway to go."

"But... didn't you like Ron?"

Hermione was confused for only a second. She remembered what she told him earlier. And she just let Ron go with a smile.

"Harry; I don't like Ron."

Harry's eyes only widened in understanding, before he blushed. "I... er... _really_ thought it was Ron."

"It would've never worked," Hermione with a small blush. She hadn't said it directly, but he seemed to be avoiding the now obvious. Hermione waited as Harry looked at her. He was still blushing, which she took as a good sign. "I... don't really know," Harry said honestly.

There was silence for a few seconds. "Oh." That came out more depressing than she thought it was.

"Wait," he stopped her as he stood. "I mean I don't know how to do this. I know I like you, but I don't really know in which way. You're one of my best friends. I thought of you like a sister."

"And I thought that you were like a brother to me," Hermione agreed, giving a sigh of relief, "but I don't think of a family member as cute."

Harry turned red again. "C-cute?" he stuttered.

Hermione smiled and ducked her head. In for a penny... "Well... I suppose you are. I suppose 'handsome.' I mean, I've never had urges to... you know... kiss... a family member."

Harry gulped as he looked at Hermione. He seemed to be looking at her in a new light. After a few seconds, he looked away, before he cleared his throat. "I haven't either. But I hate the family that I know. I don't really want to call you a sister. Because... well... I guess I shouldn't think of a sister like... "

Hermione looked up and saw Harry eying her appreciatively. "Harry!"

He closed his eyes and diverted his face. "Sorry! I was just trying to look at you in that way!"

"Like a girl?" Hermione accused.

"No," Harry said, turning back to her. "I know you're a girl. I don't call boys cute," he stated firmly. He realized a second later what he just said and gave a nervous smile.

"You... you think I'm cute?"

Harry nodded truthfully. "I always thought you were cute. Stunning, even. But you were always like my sister before. This is... it's new to me."

Hermione hid her face in embarrassment; he called her _stunning_! "It's new to me, too," she muttered.

"But... " Harry started, before catching himself.

"But what?" Hermione said, lifting her head. This was it, she guessed, the moment that Harry realized she wasn't _that_ cute.

Harry stared to the side for a moment, before gathering his courage to look into her eyes. "How do you know if you like someone in that way? Just that? There are a lot of girls that I think are cute. And I know I'm not the only boy in this school you think is ... handsome."

"You're the only one I really pay attention to," she muttered, and Harry blushed, but didn't look away. "But to answer your question... I suppose it has to do with compatibility, trust, and the potential for... well... love."

Harry gulped. "L-love?"

Hermione involuntarily took a step back. "Well, that's needed for a long-term relationship," She admitted. "When you know so much about each other, and you realize you can't live without each other, and you want to um... spend the rest of y-your life with them."

He was silent. She decided to reiterate. "It's for a long-term relationship," she stressed, "and it probably won't happen for..." She trailed off as she realized that he was deep in thought again. She waited patiently for what he had to say.

She didn't have to wait long. His eyes shone at her with a newly found understanding. "I trust you. You know that. I've always trusted you. I don't know much about compatibility, but... we get along really well. I know you well, but not as well as I'd like to. And if we did try and see what comes out of this... I'd want to go for long-term. I honestly can't see anything short-term in this. I've never had a girlfriend, and I don't know how to love, no one's ever loved me before. But if... if you're willing to try. Then I am, too."

Hermione brightened her smile. She shyly reached for Harry's hand. "Yes," she whispered, "I would very much like that."

Harry felt the warm hand holding his and realized that he liked it. A lot. He smiled warmly at Hermione, who smiled back. "Where does this leave us? Do we...?"

Hermione seemed flummoxed at what to do herself. She looked around the common room, grateful that it was empty. She turned to Harry, who seemed to be thinking what she was.

"Only one thing to do," she whispered to him. "I think we should... kiss. Do you want to?"

Harry found himself nodding. "I've never kissed anyone before," he whispered, almost as if it was a shameful thing to say.

"Me neither," Hermione confirmed, "but I've read up on it."

Harry couldn't help but smirk. "Any pointers?"

Hermione shook her head embarrassingly. That slipped out. "I can't really tell you anything. I think I'm supposed to turn to the side or something." She tilted her head a little, and she fluttered her eyes a little bit.

Harry knew that Hermione was a girl. He also knew that she was cute. He even admitted to her that she was stunning.

But, right now, she was absolutely beautiful. That was what compelled Harry to have some semblance of knowledge of what to do. He took a deep, shuddering breath and stepped forward, grabbing her waist with a gentle, almost feather-like touch. Even that shocked Hermione as she looked at Harry, her hand slipping out of his as she tentatively looped her arms around his neck.

And then they kissed. Neither of them knew who started it. They didn't know who aimed right. They didn't even know who leant up or down, since Harry was a few inches taller. But somehow, for a scant few moments, their lips were touching, and what was once nervousness slowly melted into something that could only be described as sinking into a deeper calm.

Hermione broke the kiss. She needed a moment to collect her thoughts. Harry just held onto her, just in case his legs gave out.

"I like kissing," He said after a pause.

Hermione came back to attention and giggled. "Sorry, just thinking. I like kissing, too."

Harry couldn't help but smile. "So I didn't screw up, then?"

Hermione shook her head. "You didn't do anything wrong. I think we did pretty good for a first. The books say that the first kiss is the worst kiss. The only way to get better is to... well... practice."

Harry had no arguments as he did just that.

They also agreed on another saying; the direct approach was the best approach.

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><p>I really like how this one came out. Short and sweet.<p>

Please take the time to review.


	3. Severus's Cerebral Spanking

**Story Rating: ****PG**** / ****T**** / ****13 years or older**

**Disclaimer:** Let's see ... Pissed-off Snape, Dumb Ron, Overly Loyal Harry, Professor McGonagall as a badass...yeah, seems like J.K.'s work. But it's not. I could be that damn good. Or I'm just hinting that I'm good, heightening your expectations greatly. I could have just been saying the previous statement just so you could lower your expectations again. I'm _writing_ a roller-coaster. Maybe I _am_ that good.

Where was I? Oh yeah, Harry's not my creation, just my life.

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><p>The second greatest day in Harry Potter's young life was the day that Professor McGonagall, having a free period, did something she had never done before, and took a stroll through the Dungeons of Hogwarts.<p>

She had never done so before for several reasons.

The first was because of Snape. They did not get along well. She may have been The Deputy Headmistress, but the Headmaster had an unwavering fondness for the Potions Master.

Even though she worked for him _longer_.

She suspected a deeper friendship, or perhaps something even deeper, before she violently rejected those thoughts.

She shuddered, and not because of the dark and dreary dungeon.

The second reason was because it was, well, dark and dreary. As she padded down the hallways, half-glancing at the dusty portraits and experimentally sniffing the dingy air, she wondered when the last time this part of the castle was _cleaned_. Filch had chosen to _live_ down here when he started working at Hogwarts. Shouldn't he have at least tried to tidy up?

It would be another thing she would bring up with Albus. And he surely wouldn't do a thing about it.

And that lead to the third reason – Albus. For the past several years, during her free periods, she had tea and lemon drops with Albus. They were the highlight of her day, really. Her conversations with him were … interesting, to say the least. Being a century and a half_young_, he says, he had a lot of stories to tell, most of them interesting, the rest absolutely fascinating. She had to wonder if most of them were true, but she was sure that he was no Lockhart. She had tales to regale as well, but he could have written a children's book… with some of the stories.

There wasn't a teacher around to reprimand him with some of the stories he told, and he abused that fact brilliantly. As stern as she was, she couldn't give her boss a detention. And even she didn't know what house he came from – can't take points.

But back to the matter at hand.

The fourth and final reason was pretty clear-cut – There was no one down here that she wanted to talk to. There was absolutely nothing that was in the dungeons, other than Snape's classroom, Filch's room, and, of course, the Slytherin Common Room.

She had never strolled the halls before, but she has gone to the Slytherin Common Room, to punish students who either didn't show up to detention or was accused of something that happened earlier in the day.

That happened _often_.

Before she took the time to ponder more, and maybe even bring up questions that Dumbledore would not like answered, she heard yelling. It was out of the normal hearing range, but her animagus abilities allowed her sensitive ears to catch the whole conversation.

"Longbottom, you dunderhead, you added monkswood too soon! You were to wait 4 and a quarter minutes, you were thirty seconds premature! Forty points from Gryffindor!" A pause. "You're supposed to turn _counter_-clockwise, you incompetent fool! Thirty points from Gryffindor!" Another pause. By this time, she was already beside the doorway. "Weasley, you incomprehensible _imbecile_! Why didn't you bother to warn Mr. Longbottom before he _foolishly_ added monkswood? Don't you Gryffindors look out for your own, never mind the fact that he's your _partner_! Thirty Points from Gryffindor." Another pause. "…Acceptable, Potter, Granger. Three points to Gryffindor. Right color, texture, thickness and smell. Next time, Mr. Potter, I suggest you not let Miss Granger do your assignments for you."

"Professor, he did just as much work as I did. I prepared the ingredients and he brewed."

"Impossible. This potion is near flawless, A _Potter_ couldn't have possibly brewed a potion of this caliber. Minus twenty points for lying to a professor."

"But sir – "

"Do you need a detention, Miss Granger? Talking back to a teacher is a serious offense. I would have figured a know-it-all like you would know – "

"Snape! Enough!" McGonagall had finally made herself known. She stalked into the room, her eyes locked to Snape's surprised face.

Harry clenched his fist at Snape, for what he said to Hermione. Had McGonagall not stepped in the room, he was sure he would have gotten a detention in a few seconds.

Or expelled. Depends on how fast Snape could draw his wand.

Which he happened to notice was on Snape's desk.

Yes, definitely expelled.

"Yes, Minerva?" Snape replied, the first time she had heard him in a civil tone since she had entered the dungeons.

"Explain yourself!"

Snape was quiet for a moment. "Which part?"

Minerva's more feline side growled at his cheekiness. "Everything."

Snape pointed towards the board. "I wrote simple instructions down and expected everyone to follow them to the letter. I didn't think that your cubs couldn't follow the simplest of directions."

She glanced at the board and did a double-take. Thirty-Seven Steps? In a row? He expected them to do thirty-seven steps of brewing a potion in two hours? From a glance, she knew that to do all of it in that short a time, there was absolutely no room for error, and even that was pushing it.

"Severus, this is a two-hour class! How can they do thirty-seven steps of brewing a potion in that amount of time! Did they start last week? Are they finishing next week?"

Severus almost snorted. "Of course not! When the time comes for them to get their Potions O.W.L., I doubt they'd have an overnight assignment."

"Professor, you're missing the point – wait, you wrote the instructions on the board? And that's it?"

Snape gave an exasperated sigh. "Yes, Minerva, now if you'll excuse – "

"So I assume you taught them how to chop the necessary ingredients, and what color the potion should be at a certain moment, and what the end result should be?"

This time, the professor really did snort, though quietly. But Minerva clearly heard it. "If they've done it right, I don't need to explain anything. They'll see for themselves."

Minerva couldn't believe her ears. They'll _teach_ themselves? Then why the hell was he on a payroll?

"Professor Snape," She ground out after collecting her thoughts, "none of your answers thus far have been close to satisfactory, so I will ask you this final question before I make any decisions."

Snape arched an eyebrow at the last part. "Yes?"

Harry had focused his magic into his fingertips and wordlessly pointed at the wand on Snape's desk. If he had done it right, the wand should be stuck to the desk.

Well, not stuck. 'Infused' would be a better word. He had not done a sticking charm, he transfigured the wand and the entire table into a metal wand and table. No noticeable difference, but if Snape wanted to pick up his wand, he would run into some… difficulty.

Hermione turned to him, noticing the hand movement, with a questioning look. He grinned mischievously, and winked. He turned back to McGonagall.

"What are your teaching methods?"

"Excuse me?" Snape looked genuinely confused.

Minerva's inner feline growled again. "What are your teaching methods? How do you teach a student what they need to know in order to do an assignment, or knowing something about a specific ingredient?"

Snape answered immediately. "Students must always come prepared to class. That means that they must read their textbooks in their own time as I tell them to brew a potion from the chapter they were supposed to read. If they have questions, then they obviously did not read the chapter. They will get a 'T' as their grade and no chance to make it up. Everything that they could want to know the answer to is in either their textbook or in one of the many books in the library. I do not need to stop class just because some dunderhead wants to know what something does." For a moment, he looked pointedly at Granger when he said this. She had asked a question in the last class, asking why potions are so dangerously affected by clockwise turns versus counter-clockwise turns.

Twenty points were removed from Gryffindor for 'not knowing enough, know-it-all.'

She looked downcast at being singled out, and she saw Harry's finger twitch again towards Snape's desk.

Before she could quietly ask him what he was doing, Professor McGonagall spoke.

Nay, screamed.

"Professor Snape, that is NOT a way to teach a class! You do NOT teach your students through a book alone, you do NOT ignore questions from students, you do NOT insult ANY student's intelligence, and you do NOT single out a student _or _insult her for _BEING A STUDENT_!"

Snape felt the need to defend himself. Unfortunately for him, he had no positive way to do that. So he fell back to his default argument – telling people to mind their own business. "Minerva, there is more than one way of teaching, and I do not teach the conventional way. If your cubs do not catch up, then I am afraid that most of them will have to repeat their year."

Minerva said nothing. She was staring at Harry and Hermione's cauldron. It was an orange and thick-looking concoction. She looked at the rest of her cubs' cauldrons, as they were all on the same side of the classroom. She did have a Mastery-worthy knowledge of Potions, and saw that most of them were almost there. The tag-team of Neville and Ron were nowhere close.

She looked on the other side, and she was sure she had no idea what she was looking at.

Every single potion was a different color. A different texture. One was brown, one was pink. One was completely black. One had somehow managed to get every single discernable color into a pot. Later, in a pensieve, and about an hour of counting, she would have a number. Two hundred and fifty-six.

She finally looked at Snape. "And I suppose you have answers for why you were harshly insulting students before I came in here? And why you had so much venom when you were saying Mr. Potter's name? And giving a student a nickname that she clearly doesn't like? And let's not forget that you took away a _hundred and twenty_ points from Gryffindor and added _three_ points in the past _four minutes_?"

She said it with a calm that she did not have. She was known for her professionalism, and she wasn't going to let Snape have the satisfaction of seeing her snap.

It would be the last thing he would see for days.

In that moment, Severus had forgotten that he was conversing with a fellow professor. He was a teacher known for his sarcasm and snappy insults. To students _only_. In a clear lapse of judgment, and a simple reminder to himself that she was in his dungeon, his classroom, he sneered.

"I thought you said you weren't going to ask any more questions."

All of the students immediately looked towards McGonagall, as if she were going to say something witty and profound. They had never seen two _competent_ teachers fight before.

She didn't disappoint.

"Professor Snape, due to your complete disregard for Hogwarts school protocol, and your blatant abuse of authority, I hereby place you on probation."

Snape's face drained what little color was left. "You can't do that," He muttered, still trying to keep a calm demeanor. This was _his_dungeon!

"Yes. I. Can," She said in a no-nonsense fashion, laced with an underlying tone that no one could mistake as a challenge. Not even Snape could retort, so she continued. "From here on, all that you do with house points will be documented and reviewed before they are set in action, all of your homework assignments will be tested for age approval, and all of your classes and detentions will be closely monitored."

Snape could say nothing, he was worried screaming at the top of his lungs at his senior would only make things worse. He could have the problem fixed with Dumbledore. Maybe even get her fired.

He sneered again.

McGonagall struck swiftly. "If the headmaster reverses your probation, then I may decide to take this claim to the Board of Directors. You may do well to remember that I am your senior, Professor," She admonished.

He jaw tightened. "I am not one of your students, Minerva," He ground out.

Her lips curled into a smile he had plastered on his face less than a minute ago. "Speaking back to your betters, Snape? That will be fifty points from Slytherin."

That seemed to make the entire class even more silent. That is, until Hermione chuckled.

The Deputy Headmistress arched her eyebrow and gave an actual smile. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

Hermione shook her head, but the look from the Professor said that she might as well tell the class. "No one has taken house points from a professor in centuries, and a head of house in over a thousand years! Incidentally, those professors just happened to be on probation. I suppose those two are related?"

Minerva nodded. "That is correct, Miss Granger. Twenty Points." She turned to the class as a whole, blatantly ignoring Snape. "When a professor is put on probation, he has little more power than a prefect. The only difference is he can teach a class. The professor will be placed into their former house back when they were a student, which is, in Severus's case, Slytherin. Since a professor should know better than to break the rules, there is a fifty-point minimum take, and a twenty-five maximum give." She finally turned to Snape, whose anger was almost palpable. "If he raises five hundred points for his house, then he is under consideration for his probation to be lifted. However, if he somehow manages to get one thousand points taken from Slytherin, he shall be…to be put in a more fitting term…_expelled_."

Malfoy was the first to break the silence. "You can't do that!" he yelled.

McGonagall merely arched an eyebrow. She was silent for a few seconds. Harry and Hermione could practically see the wheels turning in her head.

"Mr. Malfoy," she said slowly, "you don't seem to have any faith in your head of house. Am I to assume that you don't believe he has a chance of raising enough points?"

Draco shook his head vehemently. "He shouldn't be raising or losing any points! He's a professor! And you're just going to make excuses for taking points, we know you hate him!"

It took a few seconds for everyone in the classroom to absorb this information. The Slytherin students' faces became glum, and the Gryffindors all smiled.

Prof. McGonagall, however, had a look of concern of her face, followed by a look of shock. "Mr. Malfoy! What in the world makes you think that I would abuse this only because of my own selfish reasons? What professor, or any adult with power, would do such a despicable thing?"

Half of Gryffindor laughed, and the Deputy Headmistress was honestly surprised at the reaction. She looked at them all – some of them were clutching their stomachs with laughter. She had hit the nail on the head.

Draco tried to stutter out an answer, and desperately looked towards Snape, who had retreated into his mindscape to calm his raging emotions. Something he didn't have to do since the Dark Lord's reign.

Minerva continued. "I'm surprised you could accuse me of such a heinous act, Draco. I was teaching at this school when your father was here." She paused. "If I truly wanted to vent my personal feelings on any matter, I would not need any _power_ to do so. If I had any personal vendetta towards you, for instance, I would reveal that Lucius tried to bribe the Sorting Hat with money to be put in Hufflepuff."

The whole class was silent. The Gryffindors just found something else to smile about.

"That's not true!" Draco yelled, bursting out of his seat, the chair pushing a foot backwards.

"Oh, but it is, Mr. Malfoy," she claimed, in no hint an amused tone whatsoever. The spark in her eyes, however, told a different story. "Apparently, there was a cute prefect in the house that he just _needed_ to get to know. He haggled with the hat on a price for a full fifteen minutes, promising the Malfoy Estate, the Malfoy family's loyalty, and fourteen million galleons. When the hat was silent, the young lord thought he won until the hat revealed that he was… a hat. So he immediately placed Lucius in Slytherin. His reasons were, and I quote, 'There is a fine line between cleverness and ambitiousness. In one swift move, the young Malfoy has gone to great lengths to thicken the line brilliantly. That is, in its own way, both clever _and_ ambitious.'"

Most of the students in the class snorted, even some Slytherins, while Draco was red-faced. Snape returned from his mindscape to glare at his students. There was no better technique to arousing his consciousness than the sound of Gryffindors having fun in _his_ domain. "Get back to work!" he barked, and the students slowly returned to checking on their cauldron.

"Temper, Professor," McGonagall admonished. "I shudder to think that this could be your best behaviour."

Severus clenched his teeth. "Minerva, could we _please_ deal with this later? I'm in the middle of my class." Anyone not paying attention would have yelled that someone was putting Snape under the Cruciatis, with the pained look on his face.

"Yes, I'm very aware that your… _teaching_ methods requires everyone's full attention." Minerva tuned away. "That will change in the weeks to come." She walked towards the door.

Snape would have let out a sigh of relief. Finally, he was in control now, for the moment.

"Professor McGonagall?"

If he had not just retreated inside of his mind a minute earlier, he would have screamed in a bout of rage and fury, and wrapped his fingers around Potter's scrawny little neck.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"Who was the prefect? The one Lucius liked so much?"

Minerva stopped at the doorway. She spared one glance at Draco, who was glaring daggers at her. Then she left, but not before giving a name.

"Molly Prewitt."

It took a full twenty-five seconds for Ron to recognize the full name, but by then the class was laughing uproariously.

"_YOUR DAD WAS IN LOVE WITH MY MUM?"_

Professor McGonagall just got a tale to compete with Albus's stories.

After she visited the Board of Governors, of course.

* * *

><p>Rarely see any stories I like reading that has Snape in the title. *Looks back at the title* So, anyone else thinking about McGonagall spanking Snape? ... You haven't? Thought it would've crossed your mind once or twice.<p>

I may write a sequel to this, in Harry's POV, so I can find out what the hell Harry is doing to that table in the side-plot – This was one of those cleaned up one-shots written a while back. I really need to make more time for writing. I had to "adjust" to having a PS3 in my home, and, well, Arkham City. So, sorry for ignoring the Potter Universe.

Does anyone like this name, does it make enough sense? I had 'Severus Snape's Severe Psychological Spanking' and 'Severus's Cerebral Slap.' Obviously, I was looking for alliteration puns (Hey, a word that school actually taught me! Haven't used one of them in a while!), but if all it does is make you groan with disappointment (is it possible for authors to jump the shark?), I'll change it.

Usually, when I say that a story will be updated soon, it won't be for a couple of years. That's the pattern. I say I'll update it, then I work on the chapter, then my brain is like 'What?' for several hours, then I forget what I type, then I write something epic, but it doesn't relate to the story at all, so I delete it. Then I close it and try again in a year. Repeat.

So… Deathly Hallows, Take Two will be updated soon.


	4. The List

**Edit June 11, 2014** - Adding Prologue to better explain the story as a standalone.

* * *

><p>The List. More or less the Hogwarts version of the Bible, or the Torah. Written by the most eligible bachelor in the Wizarding World, the Conqueror of Voldemort, the Boy-Who-Lived-So-Bloody-Many-Times-That-Sometimes- You-Wonder-If-He-Just-Might-Be-Immortal, Harry James Potter. It was a simple list. Some call it sexist; others call it stupid; but the majority of the Hogwarts population called it a necessity for the continuation of human life. Well, it was a bit of juicy gossip, anyway.<p>

It was a list of the top ten hottest girls currently in Hogwarts.

'Hottest' wasn't really the right word. Harry was an old-fashioned, noble fellow; he preferred to look at a girl's inner beauty, before putting a face with a rank.

Though the outside attributes _do_ have a bit more merit.

It all started, as it usually does, with the girls, and their version of the list. Their list was, obviously, about the hottest guys in Hogwarts. Harry, being a fifth year, won the last two years, and was a shoo-in for his last two years at the school. Hell, there was even a talk about making him the first ever alumnus. In the past 400 years of The List's existence, that was a tremendous honor.

Of course, Harry knew none of this. The only reason he found out was when he overheard Lavender and Parvati's conversation. After a bit more ribbing, and more giggling than anyone could handle, he was given as much information.

So as he was in the girls' dormitories, staring at the decorated, orderly parchment magically glued to the wall, he figured that it was time he replied to this.

When Hermione walked out of her room wearing nothing but a long Quidditch jersey and carrying a towel, tiredly rubbing her eyes and walking right past Harry, he felt inspired to start right away. It took a few seconds for him to notice his own last name on the back of the red and gold jersey.

For the rest of the week, Harry holed himself up in his dorm, using his pensieve to study every girl in Hogwarts fourth year and up. He didn't worry about classes as much, although he did participate; Headmistress McGonagall, with a smile tugging her lips, felt that defeating a Dark Lord single-handedly was one of the main reasons for getting an education in the first place – really, he was only there to keep some sense of normalcy in his life.

He sighed tiredly as he finished the most recent memory. With his clout, he probably could have gotten every girl to form a line for a bit of modeling and an interview, but he felt that he should judge from natural beauty and everyday interactions, not from make-up and scripted lies.

Fortunately, he had met quite a few girls, due to his fame, classes, and Quidditch matches. He already had an idea of who would go on the list, but he didn't want to be biased.

So, after a few minutes of consideration, he put down a name.

* * *

><p>Harry removed his invisibility cloak.<p>

"Harry! Wha- how did you get up here?"

Harry sat on the bed, and without a second thought, banished the basilisk armor underneath. It really wasn't built with comfort in mind. He was currently putting spells on the Gaunt Family Ring that could protect him sufficiently, but until then, his armor would have to do. He had to practice Constant Vigilance, after all, especially around the other houses. But he trusted Hermione with his life.

"I shimmied up the staircase."

"You… you what?"

Harry grinned as he fell back and his head hit her blanket-covered lap. "It was a trick someone taught me, and as it turns out, it works. See, when a bloke tries to run up the staircase, it turns into a slide, right?" Hermione nodded. "And the rail disappears when you grab for it, right?" She nodded again, furrowing her brows. "But what if you grab the _rail_ first?"

"If you touch the stairs _at all_, then the rail disappears, regardless," Hermione replied, biting her lower lip as she stared down at Harry, her back leaning against the headboard. She moved her books off to the side.

Harry nodded. "Exactly."

They were silent. Hermione took this as her cue to put the rest of the pieces together. Even she had long ago accepted the fact that while she was still the smartest witch in her generation, it was rather clear that Harry wasn't far behind as the smartest _Wizard_ in his generation. They were a formidable team together; the events of their past summer made that obvious.

During the comfortable silence, Hermione began stroking Harry's hair in concentration. Harry practically purred as he closed his eyes, patiently waiting.

"So… you shimmied up the rail? And you didn't touch the stairs at all?" She guessed.

Harry nodded, smiling, his eyes still closed. "Yeah. If I had known that before, I would have been doing that every day. Does wonders for exercise."

Hermione glanced down at his stomach. She had noticed.

She tore her eyes away, thankful that he was still in his own land, and she ran her fingers through his unkempt ebony locks. "So, how does it feel now that you have full access to us girls _and_ an invisibility cloak?"

"Pretty good, actually," Harry muttered, and Hermione tapped him lightly on the forehead. He chuckled. "You know I'm kidding, 'Mione. I've only actually done it once before, when I found out of a certain _list's_ existence." He cracked one eye open. "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

Hermione cocked her head. "What list?"

Harry lifted his head and concentrated, before a small scroll appeared in his hand. Hermione had to grin at Harry's impressive feats of magic every time he did it. "Apparently, every year for the past four hundred years, there has been a list of the most attractive males in Hogwarts. It's been on the wall, right next to your dorm room."

He wordlessly handed her the list, and she seemed surprised. She quickly got over her shock and looked down to him. "I had no idea," she stressed, and Harry nodded, pleased at her answer. She took a glance at the parchment.

1. Harry Potter  
>2. Cedric Diggory<br>3. Fred / George Weasley  
>4. Neville Longbottom<br>5. Lee Jordan  
>6. Justin Finch-Fletchley<br>7. Dean Thomas  
>8. Ernie MacMillan<br>9. Blaise Zabini  
>10. Zacharias Smith<p>

"I can't help but notice that all of the top names are war heroes," Hermione commented, smirking.

Harry said nothing, still relaxing as one of her hands was still rubbing at his scalp.

"Not arguing about the first name, of course," she said, and Harry _hmm_'ed in appreciation. "And I guess that at the right angle, there is a certain _sparkle_ about Cedric… but I don't particularly think some names deserve to be on this list. Number four, for instance. While Neville is a _great_ person, I don't think he should be on this list. That's not a slight against him or anything, it's just that he seems to be the same Neville that we always knew."

"That killed Bellatrix," Harry muttered, "and Rockwood. Dueled both of the Lestrange brothers to a standstill before he got help. That's sexy."

Hermione moved the paper aside and smirked down at him. Harry opened his eyes.

"You know what I mean," he said dryly. "The act is very attractive. It appears it's always been more like the most eligible bachelor list instead of actually going on purely physical attraction. For instance, Draco was high on the list last year. I did a bit of digging and talked to Lav; apparently, his money made him very attractive. The fact that his dad is dead, his mother shames him on a daily basis, and he's a Dead Dark Lord supporter, but he still _looks_ like Draco Malfoy, is not as attractive."

Hermione snickered. "They should have seen him two years ago."

Harry smiled as he remembered that day. Draco was talking about Buckbeak getting executed weeks before the trial, and Hermione had clearly had enough.

She really was a bomb waiting to explode, what with the constant use of her time turner. It was strange, really. He had used his own many more times than she ever did, but she was the more stressed. Technically, by this point, he was older than she was, when he kept his and her rotations logged. He could legally do magic outside of school by Christmastime, while she had to wait until mid-march.

Harry was secretly in the process of having a legitimate trial for Buckbeak, and he eventually won the case, but he decided not to tell Hermione until a few days before the trial – while Buckbeak's impending doom worried her, it would be downright distressing if she began making notes, gathering evidence, and overall tiring herself unnecessarily.

So she did not know of the Hippogriff's fate. And when Draco had claimed in a loud voice, meters away, that he just sent a letter off asking Macnair if he could buy the ax that's going to take the beast's head off, unwashed, and the head itself, stuffed, she lost it.

_He was proudly stating that Hippogriffs were a rare delicacy, and that he would be selling the meat at a hundred Galleons per kilogram when she approached him and suddenly punched him in the face, sending him to the ground and skidding a few feet. Crabbe and Goyle were quick to react, but Hermione had already – wandlessly – stunned Crabbe, who was closer, and Goyle was quickly stunned by Harry. Hermione slowly tied up her hair in a rubber band, removed her dark pink hoodie sweatshirt and tossed it to Harry, and put up her fists._

_"Stand up," she threatened quietly to the Malfoy spawn._

_Draco scrambled to his feet. "You crazy Mudblood! When my father hears of -"_

_"I'll take him down, too." She charged at him, faster that he could have seen her coming, and socked him in the eye._

_Draco screamed as he was hit, having never been hit before in his life. He almost fell to the ground, but she had already grabbed the end of his tie, wrapping it around her hand carefully until her knuckle was connected to the knot. She hoisted him back to his feet, and his jaw connected to her fist once again._

_He cried and mumbled a few words, but she couldn't hear them clearly enough. But she knew that they were coming out too clearly for her tastes, so she hit him again, in the same spot. When she heard a small crunch, she dropped him to the ground. She leaned over him and quickly located his right front pocket of his robes for his wand. She pocketed the wand as a souvenir and roughly kicked him in the side. When he grunted, she nodded to herself._

_"You tell anyone, I snap this wand," she whispered roughly. "And I'll make sure to come back to snap the other one. I'll finish the job Buckbeak started – I promise that."_

_She walked over to Harry, who wordlessly handed over her sweatshirt. "Too much?"_

_Harry shook his head. "Personally, I would have snapped the wand in front of him, and shoved both broken ends up his arse."_

_"Language, Harry," she chuckled, and they both walked along, Harry disabling the notice-me-not charm. "Besides, I don't think that's much of a punishment for him. I don't want him to accidentally enjoy it."_

_Harry laughed loudly, and they stepped into the school together._

Back in the present, the duo chuckled at Draco's 'mysterious absence' from the school. Madam Pomfrey was paid quite handsomely by 'Lucius' to place him in the bed in the corner, surrounded by curtains and wards, hidden from the rest of the wing. To this day, Poppy wondered if the money was worth it, to hear Draco's voice complain and whine, but she still could not get a name from him.

"Miss Granger's first foray into the abyss of depravity," he laughed. "Still one of my favorite pensieve memories."

Hermione smiled tenderly at him. "Thank you for the gift, by the way. I've always wanted one of those."

"It still has all of Dumbledore's memories in there. The useful ones, anyway."

She nodded. "I checked out a few. It may not surprise you that he and the Dark Lord Grindlewald were the best of friends."

Harry nodded. "More."

"Hm?"

"More than best friends."

"How can… _don't_ answer that. _Please_ don't answer that."

"Like I said – only the important memories."

"I'm sorry you had to sift them out," she said genuinely, scratching through his raven locks with both hands.

"I don't understand how a memory like that _can't_ just combust into flames the second it leaves his head."

Hermione chuckled. "I believe that should count as one more Life Debt owed, Potter."

Harry smirked as he relaxed. "I'll collect on it soon enough."

Hermione blushed crimson, her legs shifting together. Harry, for one, loved his head tossed back and forth as he was gently rocked, and he smiled wider at the sensation. The two sat in a comfortable silence, lost in their own thoughts. Crookshanks was sleeping peacefully in the corner, and Harry concentrated on the half-kneazle's breathing patterns for a moment, to regulate his own breathing. When Hermione shifted, Harry remembered why he was there to begin with.

"You know," Harry sleepily murmured, "I worry about you."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Why do you say that?"

"You look more tired every time I see you. Ever since we returned, you practically locked yourself up here. Romilda tells me that she has to deliver your homework back and forth, and you only get up when you have to." He debated with himself for a few seconds. "It's over, Hermione. We did it; he's dead. We can _live_ now. I can understand wanting to escape the public eye, but still… I worry about you."

"I leave the room every once in a while, Harry," she soothed, "there's nothing to worry about."

Harry cracked an eye open, and she fidgeted against the intense stare. "You're wearing the same jersey from when I last saw you."

"Sorry? When did you last see me?"

"I was under the cloak," he said, pointing to the silver sheet on the floor, "looking at the list for the first time, a week ago. You walked by me, I suppose on your way to the showers."

Hermione blanched. "Oh. I see." She cleared her throat, trying to slow down her fiercely beating heart.

"I didn't follow you or anything," Harry noted, enjoying her reaction.

"A warning would be nice," she squeaked.

"Fine, then. I'll warn you if I want to follow you into the showers," he grinned. "But I have to warn you now, Padma may not like it."

"Ah, yes, I heard from Parvati," Hermione smiled, thankful to get away from their previous conversation, even if it was about Harry's love life. "She said something about a list; I'm guessing it's the list you just showed me. How did _that_ spark an argument between you three, and then you asking Padma to Hogsmeade?"

"Actually, that wasn't the list at all." Harry reached down into his robes pocket and pulled out a small scroll. "This is the list."

Hermione daintily unrolled the paper and glanced at the two names before she noticed the title. "_The Top Ten Most Beautiful Girls in Hogwarts by Harry James Potter_? _Really_, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "It sounded like a great idea at the time…"

"Doesn't it always start that way?"

"…but it's a really stressful job, honestly."

"There's not many names here for it to be very stressful yet. Only two so far, starting with number ten."

"I'm adding one per day."

"Why?"

"I like the suspense."

"Are you sure you just don't need 'more time' to form the list?" She asked suggestively, poking his forehead for emphasis.

Harry smiled. "While it would be fun to see what they would do to try to convince me, I've planned out the list since day one. You'd be surprised how many people take my word as law, even something as stupid as a list."

"I'm not that surprised," Hermione said with mirth. "So, so far you have Padma as ten, and Katie as nine. You started this list two days ago? How was the reaction?"

"Well, so far, Padma demanded that I take her to Hogsmeade," Harry began with a fond smile, "and Katie wants to be my back-up date."

"Impressive," Hermione smiled at him, genuinely happy for him. "While this may lead to a clear abuse of power and an ego-trip you may never recover from, this might make for an interesting social experience and I'm sure I will love the crash-and-burn consequences that will follow."

Harry guffawed loudly at Hermione's prophetic proclamation. "Maybe," he countered, "but I have a few cards left to be dealt before it all comes crashing down."

"Oh, really? What?"

"Not what. Who."

"Fine. Who, then?"

"You."

"Me? What can I do? I'm not bailing you out of your mess."

"Maybe not, but we both know you won't completely abandon me," Harry smiled, and she shook her head at his not-misplaced arrogance.

"Not _completely_, no. What did you have in mind?"

"Simple. You go to Hogsmeade with me."

"Backup number two? I'm not that kind of girl."

Harry shrugged. "A guy can dream. But I wasn't asking like that. I want you to be under the invisibility cloak. I want you to completely study her, watch her every movement, and at the end, grade her."

"Grade her? You're making her my assignment?"

Harry shook his head. "No, she's _my_ assignment. I need you to find out if she would be more compatible to me."

"I'm not exactly a matchmaker. How can I – ?" She paused at his meaningful look. _This_ was what she had been avoiding. "Harry – "

"_Don't_ give me that. You… you're the only girl that ever meant much to me, 'Mione. You know that. I know that."

Hermione's hand trembled – her breath took a sharp intake. "Harry…"

"It's probably something you don't want to hear, but it's true." Harry paused at the instant change in the atmosphere, but ultimately decided to press on. In for a penny…

"You know there's _something_ there. I don't know if it's something like a sister, you mean too much to me for me to think of you as a relative." He looked up into her eyes. "I'm going to live, with you by my side. The day that I die, you'll be holding my hand, and you'll be the last face I see. We've been through so much together that regardless of feelings, no matter who else you or I try to fall for, that much is going to happen, I'm very sure of it. And after that night at the Yule Ball, when you told me that I should see what else is out there for me, I refused to listen to you. You are _damningly_ stubborn; I didn't account for that. So I'll take your advice. Your decision is final. If you don't think she's good for me, I'll let her down as gently as possible. If you decide that she's great for me, then I'll be happy."

She looked misty as Harry sighed. "And if you decide that what happened between us was _meant_ to happen, and that I'm not a delusional nutcase with a slight incest complex, then I'll be happier than you could ever know."

Harry slowly sat up in the bed. He wordlessly incinerated the males list and took his own list from Hermione's limp hands. Without looking at it, he poked the paper. A bright flash later, he put it back in her hand. "I want you to see if Padma is compatible to me. You know me better than I know myself. I listened to you before when it comes to my choice on girls, and while I still don't like your judgment, I'm not going to question it." He tiredly rubbed at his eyes and stood. "It's getting late; I should go. Wouldn't want to get caught like this, do we?" He gave a forced chuckle. He picked up his cloak and wrapped it around his shoulders.

A part of him had always wondered that with Voldemort gone, he might have been allowed to actually _live_. They had taken him down _together_. He had assumed… he had assumed that she would listen to _reason_, that his decision still stood.

Enough time had passed for her to think about it. He wasn't stupid. He _knew_ her. He knew what she felt for him. He could read her like a book. She was avoiding him. That much was also obvious.

But he was desperate. He needed an answer for this. Before this went any further, she had to know.

Now she knew. And tomorrow, this day will never be mentioned again. He'd accept that. Because she knew.

"Harry, wait!" She yelled, before he crossed the doorway. He turned back to her, and her lip trembled. "I… I'll try. I know. And I'll try. I promise. I _will_ try."

Harry nodded, and a small smile whisked past his lips. Before he could turn back around, Hermione ripped the covers off the bed and she quickly got up, her long, flawless legs padding across the floor to put him in one of her crushing hugs. Harry welcomed her. Her face burrowed into his neck, and her hands hooked onto the back of his shoulders. Harry smelled in the scent of her shampoo – _vanilla_ – And clung to her.

"I'll always be there for you, Harry," She murmured into his chest. "I'll always be with you. That will _never_ change."

Harry nodded as he stroked her brunette curls. "And that's all I can ask for," He whispered. And he was honestly okay with the thought. He had said it himself – they would be together as long as they drew breath. No matter what happened in their personal lives.

They held on for minutes – taking comfort from each other, drawing the strength from each other – and pulled back.

Cinnamon brown met emerald green, and Harry pressed his lips against her forehead softly. Hermione closed her eyes and relished the feeling.

"Why?" She asked in a shuddering whisper.

Harry paused and pulled back. "Why, what?"

"Why do you think I'm s-special? Why… did you _always_ think I'm special? Ever since that night we became friends, you… you saved me. Ever since then, you've been my only friend, the only friend I've ever needed. I-I don't know what the bloody hell I did to make you think that I'm… someone good enough for you. It just…"

A rustle of paper distracted her. She felt it whiz past her ear into Harry's hand. He slowly unfurled the sheet and showed it to her. "Here's the full list. Tell me what you think."

Her eyes quickly focused on the first name on The List. She found herself wanting to laugh, but she couldn't. It was too unbelievable – a joke taken to the extreme! "Harry, this is ridic-"

"_I solemnly swear I'm up to no good._" Harry croaked, and at the bottom of the page, words started forming.

_I swear on my life and magic that the order of names on this list is completely unbiased and is, to the best of my knowledge, what I truly believe it to be._  
>Harry James Potter<p>

Hermione stared at the words, then back at the name, trying to put the two together. She gazed at her own name for what seemed like hours, and when Harry spoke again, her mind struggled to process every word in her out-of-body experience. "I think you're special because you are. I think you're the most loyal, trusting friend I could _ever_ have in _any_ lifetime because you are. I think you are the most _beautiful_ girl in Hogwarts, the most beautiful girl on this _earth_, inside and out, because _you are_."

Harry took her free hand and placed it on his heart. "This happens," he breathed, "Every time you're near me. I've never found a way to stop that. It just beats so bloody fast I can barely hear myself _talk_ to you_._ One day, I'll die of a heart attack, I just know it. Being around you just isn't healthy, and that's coming from _me_. It beats because _you have it_, 'Mione. It keeps beating because it thinks that one day, you'll take it."

Hermione was silent. "I… _I want it_." She looked up to Harry's eyes again. "I really do. I want it. I keep telling myself, I can't, I can't do it. But I can. And, if it's not too late, I _will_. I don't think I've ever wanted anything more in my life." She breathed heavily, her own heartbeat deafening in her ears. "And that's what scares me. It's always scared me. I keep thinking that one day you'll figure it out; that I'm not good enough for you. _Damn_ the fact that you're the slayer of a _damn_ Dark Lord, you claim that I'm the only one that can see you for who you are; the real Harry. But there might be a time, a moment that you realize that _anyone_ can fall in love with you, _anyone_ with half a brain could get to know you if you let them, and they'll _know_ that the Boy-Who-Lived can't hold a _candle_ to you. It took a _troll_ for you to accept me as a friend. You don't let people _in_. And when you finally do… when you finally do…"

"You will always be the first person that accepted me. You will _always_ be the one that comes to mind as the one person that I've always seen myself with. No one will know the things you know about me. _No one_ will do the things you've done and taken the steps you took with me, _for_ me, for _us_. We've practically taken on the world together, 'Mione. What makes you think that _this_ will go away? If this…" he clasped his hand over hers, "…if this ever ends, this _bond_ that we've forged together, then there isn't a chance that anything else will matter."

Hermione looked at her hand clasped within Harry's larger ones, and couldn't believe how _perfect_ it all felt. She slowly slipped her hand from his grasp. She held it there for a moment, before she lifted her hand to his cheek. She stroked his clean face delicately. "I could never do this. I could never say those words. You… you're so brave, Harry. Since the day I met you, I… you were always the reckless one, and yet it's never backfired. What did I tell you once? First year? About there being more to being a great wizard than things like books and… cleverness?"

Harry didn't need Occlumency to recall the memory. But first, he knew that they had been prolonging what he had wanted to do for years. He slowly leaned closer to her. She met him halfway as she stood on her toes and quickly pecked him on the lips. Before he could lean back, Hermione quickly stretched her arms around his neck and melded her lips with his with a ferocity they _both_ didn't know she had.

_'Friendship, bravery, and love, Harry. Don't forget that. You can't be stopped if you have enough of each. Books? Cleverness? That makes you a theoretically great wizard, but that doesn't help against the things you find yourself in. Friendship. I'd like to think that you're my best friend. Bravery – you were always a brave wizard. I don't think we're old enough to love, Harry. But you'll find it. I know you will. Maybe I – … I believe in you.'_

Harry stepped back from her. "I believe in you, too, Hermione. More than anything else."

Hermione's heart soared – she got the message loud and clear. She kissed him again, before she quickly ran out of breath. She kept her hands linked around his neck as she rested the tip of her chin on his chest, breathing heavily.

Harry's breathing was just as heavy as he pressed his forehead to hers. He gulped in a lungful of air, and closed his eyes. "Any regrets so far?"

"No, I don't think so. And you?"

"No crash-and-burn consequences yet," he whispered, and they both chuckled together.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> The List: The first four chapters are currently available right here on my account. This is chapter three of that story, and the first two are centered on Harry interacting with the Patil Twins and Katie. Thank you for reading, and I hope you go on to reading the many more Harmony moments that are sure to come in the story.


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